My heart rate slows
In the heat of the shower water.
My stress washes away
In a flurry of scorching droplets.
I am alone in my world with
Red-splotched skin.
I look, there's dirt
Under my fingernails. But how?
I don't have a garden—
Something that I'd like to change.
I am clean after another day,
Smelling of peach and almond.
Clear of thought-plaguing scenes
That have melted down the drain
With the stench of worry.
I am vulnerable to tomorrow.
My heart rate beams skyward.